donations

I was sitting today in the courtyard of a church donations reception building called Carla, I drank a coffee from the machine, I smoked homemade cigarettes and coughed a little. Somehow the coughing became embarrassing, namely when a woman with a magnificent dress and shiny and somewhat charismatic got out of the car, she stroked her curls for a few seconds and then she took two boxes in her hand, full of valuables, she smiled and I coughed, she smiled and I coughed. 

i'm honest, the coughing was intentional with the message: how do you want to open the door? Stop grinning I won't open the door. donation ritual is like sex, it's 3 months of mental wanking until the ecstasy is reached: i will donate, i will donate, i will if i have the time. These 2 minutes do not need a door opener, just someone who coughs and continues to smoke and looks on with amusement. this charisma, this splendor and this dress, these curls and these grins in ecstasy and the car